


Temperance

by jouissant



Series: Motel Tarot [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Flogging, M/M, Riding Crops, Sex Work, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach is a pro dom and Chris is a new client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temperance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medeafic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY M! <33333

The guy’s nervous. Zach can see it from the second he walks in the door. Even before he enters, he’s standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, craning his neck to see past Zach into the room, like he expects some kind of arsenal. He sees Zach notice and blushes. He smiles apologetically, and the clear self-awareness there is endearing.

Still, though. He’s nervous, and Zach hadn’t counted on that. He probably should have.

“Chris, right? I’m Zach. It’s great to meet you.” Zach steps forward and offers his hand. When Chris takes it, nodding, his own is clammy.

“Hey,” Chris says. “Um, likewise, I guess.”

Zach gestures into the room. “Come on in,” he says. “I was just getting set up, but now that you’re here we can get going. If you want to have a seat--” he gestures at the bed.

The room has two queens, the second currently laden with Zach’s backpack and dufflebag and the assortment of implements they contained. Chris looks at them with curiosity until, like before, he notices Zach noticing him and reddens.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Zach asks. “This place has a pretty sweet minibar; I did some reconnaissance earlier.”

“Um,” Chris says. “Is it okay to drink? Before we--”

“Well, for now we’re just going to have a conversation,” Zach says. “I mean, you’re right, drinking and playing aren’t usually a great combination. But I’m also a big fan of knowing thyself, and I happen to know that things can go a little more smoothly some lubrication. Pun intended,” he says. Chris bites his lip.

“So if you want a glass of wine or a beer, I’m happy to have one with you,” Zach finishes.

“I’ll--I’ll take some wine, I guess,” Chris says.

Zach grins. “Cool. Let’s see...ooh, little bottles. Fancy. Although this cab actually isn’t bad, I’ve had it before. You good with red?”

“Sure.”

Zach locates a pair of glasses and pours out the diminutive bottles. Chris takes his glass gratefully when Zach offers, and takes an overlarge sip.

“Hey, you’re right,” he says. “It’s not bad.”

Zach settles next to Chris on the bed, close but not too close. He sees Chris’s gaze measure the distance between them, and scoots just a fraction further away, disguising the action with a lean to set his wineglass on the bedside table.

“You a big wine guy?” Zach asks.

Chris shrugs. “Kind of,” he says. “My parents are both really into it, so I guess it’s in my blood. I like learning about it, vintages and different grapes and all that stuff. I’m kind of a researcher by nature; I guess that’s…”

“How you found me?”

Chris runs a hand back through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Zach says, letting his voice drop an octave, warm up just a fraction. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together tonight.”

Chris swallows hard. His fingers tighten around the stem of his glass. “About---that,” he says. “How does...how does this all work? Do we just…” he trails off, indicating the other bed. “Do you just, like, grab a whip and go to town?”

Zach hasn’t bothered to conceal anything; they’re all just the tools of the trade anyway. But maybe he should have dialed things back a little, for Chris’s first time.

Zach doesn’t like miscalculating; he prides himself on being able to take the measure of a client from the very first exchange. Chris had been eloquent over email, confident about his limits and what he was looking to get out of the session. Zach had been prepared for someone who knew what he wanted, who could lay it all out for him to their mutual satisfaction. But the man sitting on the bed now looks like he’s seriously weighing the merits of bolting, payment up front or not. He’s tapping his foot on the floor frenetically, and his face hasn’t lost its earlier rosy cast.

“Are you...okay?” Zach ventures.

Chris heaves a sigh, grinning ruefully. “Is it that obvious?”

“You just look a little freaked out.”

“Fuck, man. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, no offense, but I never really saw myself as a person who’d, like, do this. Hire, um, a prost--a _sex worker._ ”

“Look, Chris--”

“And I told a friend of mine, just so someone would know, you know? And she kind of freaked on me, and made me feel like some kind of predator.”

“Whoa,” Zach says. “Whoa.” He sighs. “Okay. I think we need to start over.”

“Start over?”

“Yeah.” He extends his hand to Chris again. “Hi, I’m Zach,” he says. “I’m a Gemini.”

Chris smiles cautiously around the lip of his wine glass.

“I’m also an actor, or trying to be, you know how that goes.”

Chris snorts at that outright, and Zach continues, laying it on thick for Chris’s benefit. “My hobbies include long walks with my dog, watching the sunset, and hurting people. Sometimes professionally, and sometimes...”

“Recreationally?”

“Exactly.” Zach reaches for his wineglass, a stretch from where he’s sitting now. He’s pretty sure he catches Chris eyeing the slice of exposed skin that’s revealed when his shirt rides up away from the waistband of his jeans. _Interesting,_ Zach thinks. Not all of his male clients are into guys--some of them are just into _this._ But if he had to hazard a guess, he’d say Chris was into both.

“Okay,” Zach says, sipping his wine. “Your turn.”

“Oh god,” Chris says, his face purpling. “Um. Fuck, okay. I’m Chris. I’m from L.A. Uh, I guess if we’re doing the what’s-your-sign thing, I’m a Virgo. I’m...also trying to be an actor? And I like...pain. I guess.”

“Recreational pain?”

That wins Zach a real smile. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Zach says, and then they’re smiling at each other, holding their wine glasses, and it might be a first date for the little burble of excited nerves Zach feels in his belly.

This is definitely interesting.

“So, look at it like this,” Zach says, getting ahold of himself. “I have a specialized skill set you want to take advantage of. So you’re compensating me for my time and expertise.”

Chris looks unconvinced.

“Think of it like...I don’t know, a chef. A personal chef. I’m here in your kitchen with my...pots and pans, and I’m going to cook you a delicious meal. And maybe you don’t totally dictate the menu. Maybe I have creative control. But I’m going to make you something you’ll like. Something really, really good. Does that sound like a plan?”

Chris nods slowly.

“And you wouldn’t think twice about paying a personal chef, would you?”

“Of course not. And point taken, I guess. I’m...sorry if--”

“It’s fine,” Zach says. “You’re not the first person I’ve had to use that analogy with, just so you know.” 

Chris stares down at the duvet, tracing the stitching with his index finger. Zach hesitates for a second, then reaches out and brushes the back of Chris’s hand with his fingers. Chris freezes, and Zach’s sure he’s made another mistake, that Chris is going to call it all off. But then he relaxes, looking up at Zach with wide eyes.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he says. “With all this.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Zach says. “But why don’t we talk a little bit about your experiences so far.” He doesn’t move his hand and Chris doesn’t move his. He just lets it rest palm down against the bed, so Zach’s hand is lying on top. He can feel Chris’s pulse against his own palm.

Chris downs the rest of his wine; Zach takes the glass from him and sets it next to his on the nightstand. “I did some stuff with the last guy I was dating,” he says. “Like spanking, that kind of thing. But he wasn’t really into it.”

“And you guys aren’t together anymore?”

“Nah, we broke up. For other reasons, mostly; it just wasn’t working. But I also knew he wasn’t interested in any of this stuff, so.”

“Like, any of it at all, or--”

“He didn’t like hurting me,” Chris says. “It didn’t do anything for him, and I think it made him feel bad. And like...the more I wanted it, the worse he felt. And I dated girls before him, and that was its own whole thing.” He waves his hand like he’s trying to dispel something.

“Yeah, that’s rough,” Zach says.

Chris sighs. “So, mostly I’ve thought a lot, and watched a lot of porn." He makes a face. "Not exactly bringing the hardcore BDSM cred. And I could’ve gone out to a club or something, I guess, but...I don’t know. This seemed safer somehow. Something I could google, you know? I told you, I like to research. And I wanted...somebody who knew what they were doing.”

“Hey, man,” Zach says. “Everyone starts somewhere.” He runs his thumb back and forth over Chris’s hand. “And far be it from me to tell you you were wrong to book a session. You’re my bread and butter here.”

Chris huffs a laugh. “I guess. So, you’re an actor?”

“I try,” Zach says. “This beats waiting tables, for me anyway. And I can close up shop and do a play or something for however long the run is, not have to worry about getting time off. Plus it’s a hell of a lot more fun.”

“Do you act when you’re doing this?”

The question brings Zach up short. “No,” he says, after a minute. “I always like doing this.”

It’s true, he thinks. Attraction is one thing--he’s not attracted to all his clients. But playing with them, hurting them and challenging them watching them take it…he doesn’t think he’ll ever have to fake that. If he does, it’s probably time to think about calling it a day.

He lifts Chris’s hand off the mattress, turns it palm up and traces along the lines there. “How do you feel about getting started?” he asks.

He feels a shiver run through Chris. “Okay,” he says quietly. "Yeah, we might as well." 

“Great,” Zach says. “I thought we could just try a few things, have some fun and see what you're into. Are you okay with playing a little fast and loose?”

Chris nods. “I think so.”

“Anywhere you definitely don’t want to go?” 

Chris licks his lips. “Can I tell you during?” 

“Of course,” Zach says. “How’s ‘red’ work for you as a safeword?” 

“Fine,” Chris says. 

“Awesome. Ready?” 

Chris swallows again. There’s a long pause, during which his gaze sweeps the room, looking at everything but Zach. Then he blinks, like he’s snapping himself out of whatever fugue threatens to take him over right now. “Yes,” he says finally. 

Zach smiles at him, but Chris doesn’t match it. He still looks shellshocked. Zach scoots closer on the bed, lifting his hand and running his fingertip along Chris’s jawline. “I know I’m asking you a lot of questions,” he says. “It’s probably a little bit overwhelming, right?” 

Chris bites his lip and nods. 

“I’m sorry,” Zach says. “You don’t have to talk any more if you don’t want to. In fact…” He taps his chin with a finger. “In fact, I _want_ you to stop talking. Unless you need to. Sound good?” 

Chris nods again, and Zach thinks he can detect some relief in his expression, a slight ebbing of tension. _Good,_ he thinks. 

“I want you to go to the bathroom and get undressed, and then I want you to come back out here and stand against that wall over there,” Zach says, pointing. Chris looks at the wall for a second and nods, getting to his feet. 

After he disappears into the bathroom, Zach gets up and takes stock of what’s laid out on the other bed. Chris strikes him as the sort of person who operates with a certain degree of bravado, which Zach thinks works pretty well in their chosen profession but isn’t such a great idea for what they’re about to do. With that in mind, he selects a flogger and a riding crop from his collection and tests them both against his hand. They’re classics for a reason, Zach thinks, and Chris can always let him know if he wants more next time. 

Although Zach’s getting way ahead of himself, isn’t he. 

There’s a soft click, and Chris slips out of the bathroom. He’s naked, holding his clothes in a well-placed bundle over his junk. He’s also bright red, and Zach has a thing for blushing, but this is slightly ridiculous. 

“You can put that stuff on the bed,” Zach says, not unkindly. 

Chris looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do, but he complies, dropping his clothes and shoes onto the mattress. His dick is heavy between his thighs, long and thick. It looks interested in the proceedings already, though it’s nowhere near filled out. Zach decides to take that as a personal challenge. 

“Good,” Zach says. “Now, over to the wall. I want you to put your hands up on it. Shoulder-width apart, or whatever’s comfortable. You’re going to be there awhile, so you might as well find a position you can live with.” 

Chris goes, and Zach sighs with pleasure at the sight of the rear view. No, he’s not attracted to all his clients, but he’s sure as hell attracted to Chris. His ass is perfect, slightly chunky, soft pale flesh over hard muscle, clearly an extension of his well-muscled runner’s legs. Zach wants to clap his hands in delight at the thought of marking that ass, but he’s a professional, so he refrains. 

Chris does as Zach asked, standing at attention facing the wall, palms spread against the wallpaper. His legs are a little ways apart, and Zach crosses the room, tools in hand. He sets the flogger down on the bed and steps close to Chris, right up in his personal space. He’s already taken off his shoes and socks, the better to pad around the room silently--or near enough, anyway. Now, he unbuttons his shirt and watches Chris’s face. He’s trying to look without turning around; Zach can see his eyes move, the slightest shift of his head. If they knew each other a little better Zach might grab him by the chin, tell him to about face and not look back again, but Zach’s already decided to cut Chris some slack tonight. 

_Some_ slack. 

He tosses his shirt to the side and moves closer to Chris. The hair on Zach’s chest brushes up against Chris’s bare skin, and Chris shivers. Zach fingers the rich leather binding of the crop, reaches out to prod at the inside of Chris’s knee with the end. Chris gasps and opens his legs, and Zach smiles at his back. He runs the crop up the inside of Chris’s thigh and watches Chris’s legs come apart like the crop is a hot knife through butter. 

“Good,” Zach says, and Chris moans softly. Zach glances through the inverted V of Chris’s legs; he’s hard, standing so close to the wall the head of his dick keeps bobbing against the striped wallpaper. 

“You’re going to have to be careful not to make a mess,” Zach says. “I like this place. They think I’m in the city on business a couple times a month. I guess it’s not a total lie.” He reaches out with the crop and traces Chris’s balls where they hang between his thighs. He shudders and tenses, as if he’s not sure whether or not he likes Zach touching him there. 

“But you’re my business tonight,” he continues. “Aren’t you.” 

He traces back up the crack of Chris’s ass and watches him shiver again, watches goosebumps fly up the length of his spine ahead of the leather. Chris sways a little on his feet. 

“You’re so ready for this,” Zach murmurs. _You think you’re not, but you are._

“I said I was going to play around with you a little,” Zach says. “Are you still okay with that? You can nod if you are.” 

Chris nods. 

“Good,” Zach says. “Now I want you to stay just like that, hands on the wall where I can see them, okay?”

Chris nods again. 

“I’ve got a flogger here.” Zach bends and snatches it up off the bed, trailing the fringe along the spine of Chris’s scapula. The fall of leather over Chris’s golden skin strikes Zach as particularly pleasing, and he spends a minute carding through the rich black strands with his fingernails, straightening them just so like they were locks of hair. The leather smells sweet. Zach only buys the best, only the real stuff. The heft has to be just right, the weight of it, the motion of his wrist when he flicks, the snap when he hits. 

“I’ve got a crop too, and you felt that a second ago. And I’ve got my hand.” 

Zach follows the curve of Chris’s ass from the knob of his tailbone to the taut swell of his hamstrings below. He runs, he definitely runs. God, Zach wants to touch him. Ordinarily he’d start with a basic spanking; he can make them hurt with his hand but not in the savage way he can with a crop or a cane, and the spanking isn’t often much more than a warm-up. They prefer things that way, his clients. 

Chris isn’t like them. 

“I’m going to give you ten strokes with each,” Zach says. “To start. 

Chris ducks his head, but Zach sees him nod at the floor.

Zach looks down at his hands. 

He’ll start with the flogger. He’ll make himself wait. 

Chris is so keyed up that Zach half thinks the first stroke is going to end things before they even get started. The opening slap of leather against his ass makes Chris half collapse heavily against the wall, and Zach stops, concerned. 

“You doing okay?” 

He gets a shaky nod back, and waits until Chris rights himself before he resumes. 

Zach lets the weight of the flogger move his wrist, his arm. He counts out loud. He slides into the easy certainty of muscle memory, experience where he knows Chris has none. There’s something intoxicating about his greenness, more so than the usual rush. He’s so pink already, every capillary opening like a petal to show Zach just how much Chris wants this, has wanted it. 

Chris doesn’t move his hands from where they rest on the wall, but Zach can see his fingers flex. He wonders what he’s thinking about--about touching himself, probably, or about that ex boyfriend. 

“Nine, ten.” 

He finishes up by running the flogger the length of Chris’s spine, just lightly, just enough to see him shiver again. It’s not that cold in the room; Zach likes to turn the thermostat up a little warmer than he thinks he needs to. He’ll work up a sweat, but Chris will be fine in his state of undress. Now, though, his nipples have hardened and his goosebumps haven’t diminished--Zach’s seeing the results of arousal rather than temperature. He smiles. He catches a glimpse of himself in the big mirror that hangs over the television across from the bed. He looks feral. His teeth are so white. 

He drops the flogger onto the mattress and takes up the crop again. He smacks it against his palm with force and the action makes a heady smacking sound.

“This’ll hurt more,” Zach says conversationally. “But you probably already knew that. You googled it, right? You probably read a thousand forum posts from a thousand internet subs all about how crops and floggers and nipple clamps made them feel. Right?” 

Chris doesn’t answer, but the set of his shoulders changes, hardens slightly. He draws himself up a little more where he’d begun to melt before, to decoalesce. 

“I bet you jacked off while you read them, huh, Chris.” 

Chris sighs. 

“Did you keep looking? Did you work your way past the leather to even nastier things?” 

Zach smacks the crop into his palm again. He’s pretty sure he’s back to reading Chris right now. He’s breathing faster, almost panting. His head is turned slightly, like he’s still trying to get a look. His lips parted. God, Zach should have blindfolded him. 

“I’m going to start now,” Zach says. “And I’m going to make ‘em count.” 

The first stripe of the crop across Chris’s cheeks sends him up onto his toes, elbows flexed like he’s doing a pushup against the wall. He yelps, and Zach feels his dick plump up in his jeans. Chris’s hands fly back to clutch at his ass; Zach makes the same monosyllabic dissuasive _Uh-uh!_ he’d use if he caught Noah in the catfood, and Chris’s hands freeze midair. 

“Good boy,” Zach says, with no small measure of edge to his voice. “Quick on the uptake. I _like_ that. Now get your hands back on the wall, please.” 

Chris complies, his hands twitching in place again, like he’s itching to touch something. His dick is heavy with blood, that it can stand at such a attention seems like an impossibility. He looks like he’d blow at the first touch, and that kind of hair trigger is hot as hell. Zach allows himself the luxury of a moan at the mental image and grinds the heel of his hand into his crotch. He should maybe try a little harder to keep it together, but Chris isn’t looking.

The crop leaves a rosy demarcation across the width of Chris’s ass, and Zach spends the second and third strokes giving that mark some company. Chris’s breath comes faster and faster, hitching, and by the end he’s definitely swaying on his feet, so much so that when Zach steps close to him again to touch (because please, the heat coming off Chris could warm a small city, there’s no way Zach’s not going to feel) he leans heavily backwards against him. 

“Whoa,” Zach says gently. 

He gets an arm around Chris’s shoulders and takes his weight, easing him back against the wall and looking into his face. He’s flushed, his eyes closed. His bangs are a little sweaty, and before Zach knows what he’s doing he reaches out and brushes the hair back off Chris’s forehead. Chris’s eyes come open, clear blue, and Zach feels an unexpected rush of embarrassment at the tenderness of his gesture. 

Chris’s dick is brushing up against Zach’s thigh, and he shifts slightly just to see what Chris will do. He exhales sharply at the contact and cants his hips forward as if looking for more. Whether he’s moving consciously or not, Zach can’t say. 

“How are you doing?” Zach asks. 

Chris bites his lip. “Good,” he says after a moment, haltingly. 

“Do you like this?” 

The question feels redundant; the man in Zach’s arms is flushed and sweating and hard as a rock, but Zach wants to hear it. 

“Yeah,” Chris says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “Yeah, I do.” 

Zach smiles. “I’m glad,” he says. “You’re doing great. I’m going to use my hand on you now, though. Even good boys get spankings.” 

Chris raises an eyebrow, some of his dreaminess seeming to ebb. “You use that line every time?” 

Zach stares for a second. “Oh, it’s on,” he says, laughing. “You got me all concerned and now here you are talking shit. Turn the fuck around.” He swats Chris on the ass, where he’s almost certainly tender from the crop already, and is rewarded with a pained yip. 

He was smart not to spank Chris first, he thinks. All of a sudden, this feels like the main event, as if the flogger and the crop were just a prelude, just icebreakers. This feels like the two of them, together, without Chris’s inhibitions and Zach’s concerns. This feels like play. 

He smacks Chris on either cheek in rapid succession, a barrage of small but stinging volleys. He’s decided to abandon his ten-stroke limit, he stops counting and he can tell Chris isn’t keeping track. Zach uses his hands to blur the sharp pink line of the crop, til it feels like he’s dusting Chris with color, his hands instruments of artistry. Chris’s muscles shift and bunch; he moves from side to side as if he’s fighting twin urges to both take what Zach is offering and move out of his way. Chris is no longer quiet. His mouth is open and every impact conjures some new noise, a moan or a cry. Zach is sweating now too, and he hasn’t been this turned on while working in a very, very long time. He wishes he’d thought to take off his jeans, but that was back when he’d been thinking with all of his brain, when he’d been one hundred percent clear on the fact that Chris was a paying customer. 

He lets his strokes slow and find a new rhythm, his hand heavy. The impact burns; his palm will be as sore as Chris’s ass tomorrow. Chris pitches forward every time Zach’s hand lands, moaning in time with the slap of skin on skin. The sound and the sweat and the roll of Chris’s hips--they all remind Zach of sex, like he’s fucking Chris with his hand, with his whole body. If he lets himself go just a little, he can almost feel what it would be like. Sinking into him from behind, his teeth on Chris’s neck--

“Please,” Chris says abruptly. “Stop. Zach, please.” 

Zach snatches his hand back, heart hammering in his chest. For a second, he has the wild thought that Chris knows what he’s been thinking and is about to call him on it. But when Chris turns around, slumping against the wall, his expression is glassy. He’s staring down at his dick like he doesn’t know what it’s for. 

“I’m gonna come,” he says, sounding shocked. 

Zach’s mouth is dry; he takes a second to pull himself together. “Do it,” he says. “Get yourself off for me.” 

“ _Oh,_ ” Chris breathes, dropping his hand. He jerks himself clumsily once or twice and then he’s gone, legs quivering, come all over his thighs. It takes every ounce of willpower Zach possesses not to yank his fly down and join him. 

He contents himself with stalking over to Chris instead and taking his face in both hands, kissing him deeply on the mouth. Chris stiffens as if surprised, but then he kisses back, shuddering against Zach and letting his hands settle at Zach’s waist. They both lean heavily against the wall, breathing together until Chris has come down from his orgasm and Zach feels in slightly less danger of coming in his pants. 

“That was amazing,” Chris says, head falling back with a dull thunk. Zach smiles, feeling a prick of emotion he can’t quite put into words. He’s not sure he wants to. He can still feel the swell of Chris’s lips between his teeth. He tasted like wine.  


Zach helps him over to the bed. Chris stretches out on his back and winces, rolling into his side instead. Zach pushes lightly at his shoulder. “Let me see,” he says, and Chris does.

“Ouch,” Zach says, whistling through his teeth. His dick gives a twitch of renewed interest. “You should go take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look incredible.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. Pleasure was all mine, and I mean that. Might bruise up a little, but it's no big deal. It'll be gone in a few days.” 

Chris presses his face into the pillow and falls silent. And with that the awkwardness creeps in, slowly but surely. It always does; this is the moment when the illusion fails, when neither Zach nor his clients can pretend they’re anything other than just that. He’s mostly used to the feeling by now. Not kissing people makes it easier. He’s an idiot, and he can’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

He gives Chris some space, moving over to the opposite bed and tidying his toys away. He looks up after a few minutes to find Chris watching him, cheek resting on his crossed arms. 

“How you doing?” Zach asks. “I’m almost done here, and then I’ll leave you to it. Take as much time as you like, shower, whatever. Just go easy on the mini bar; a Snickers is like five bucks. Highway robbery.” 

“Thank you,” Chris says. 

“Sure,” Zach says. 

Chris sits up, running a hand back through his hair. “No, I mean...thank you. For all this. This was...I don’t know. I don’t know how I expected this to go but...this was great. So. Thanks.” 

“I’m glad,” Zach says. “I just hope you found what you were looking for.” 

Chris stares, contemplative. “I think maybe now I know where to look.” 

Zach drags his feet until Chris goes into the bathroom to shower. He’s still naked, though he seems to have lost his earlier inhibitions. He lingers in the bathroom doorway and Zach shoulders his backpack and shifts from foot to foot. They smile at each other and smile again. 

“Thanks again, man,” Chris says.  


“Any time,” Zach says.

“Do you--” Chris starts, then cuts himself off.

“What?” 

“Nah, forget it.” He flicks the light on in the bathroom. “See you, Zach.” 

And that’s a clear goodbye, so Zach takes the opening. A job well done, most of the month’s rent paid, and leftover Thai in the fridge at home. All in a day’s work. But all the way down to the valet he turns that aborted sentence over in his head, and he licks his lips and swears he can still taste wine.


End file.
